


A Life That's Good

by Kyntha



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Army, Breaking Celibacy Vows, Deaf Character, Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), Domestic Fluff, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Fluff, Homosexuality, Iraq, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Post-Series, Priests, Romantic Fluff, Same-Sex Marriage, US Supreme Court, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyntha/pseuds/Kyntha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern Time AU in which Hawkeye and Father Mulcahy serve in the Gulf War/Desert Storm in the early 1990's.  This would make them in their mid-50's in 2015.  Mulcahy looks back at their life together on June 26, 2015, with a little history of LGBT rights sprinkled in.<br/>Briefly mentions minor character death and implied deaths due to war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a sequel to my story Touch, although I did pull in a few of the elements from that story. Hawkeye and Father Mulcahy characterizations are mostly TV-verse canon compliant. There may be a few hints of the movie/book-verse characterization if you squint. The dialogue in the camp kitchen is adapted from Deluge, s4e23 (quite possibly my favorite Hawkeye/Mulcahy moment of the entire series). The lullabye is from The Kids, s4e8. The statement from CNN is taken directly from a news story on their website dated June 27, 2015. Ignores Maine legalized same-gender marriage in 2013. Military history and facts may not be completely correct. No misrepresentation or disrespect is intended. Story title from the song "A Life That's Good" by Lennon and Maisy.

Francis Mulcahy, leaned against the door frame of the large bedroom with a great view of the bay and the sunrise that he had shared with Hawkeye for the last 22 years. He held a cup of coffee in each hand, the morning newspaper under his left arm, and something he’d been waiting to give Hawkeye since the spring in his bathrobe pocket. Hawkeye lay sleeping with the little dog that wandered into the parking lot of his practice a few years back. He’d insisted on calling it Pup-pup, despite Francis’ protests. Pup-pup wasn’t allowed to sleep with them, but waited patiently each morning for Francis to rise before jumping on the bed and snuggling with his savior for a few minutes. After several weeks, both men gave up shooing him off the bed and accepted his need for the early morning cuddle. Not that Francis could blame the little dog. He enjoyed the early morning cuddles with Hawkeye too.

The dog raised his head at Francis’ presence at the door, but when the former priest made no further move to enter the room, Pup-pup lay his head back down on Hawkeye’s hip. So much had changed for the two men since they first met in Iraq during the events that led up to the Gulf War. They spent much of their deployment together in Iraq meeting in secret, spending furtive hours in the middle of the night together before necessity predicated they return to their own quarters. Shortly after they returned to the states, the new “Don’t ask, don’t tell” military policy had been handed down. Francis remembered then how that policy had been considered progress. No one could accuse other soldiers of homosexuality unless there was proof of a tryst. A few years ago, that policy was rescinded and it was no longer a punishable offense to be gay in the military. More progress that made the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy seem like a joke.

The coffee mugs were warm in his hands and Francis moved to the reading corner Hawkeye created for him to set them both down on the small table before settling in the chair with the paper, dateline June 26, 2015. Francis took a long sip of coffee and smiled at his sleeping partner. In anticipation of today’s Supreme Court ruling, phrases like the Defense Against Marriage Act (or DOMA), same-sex marriage, and one man, one woman littered the front page. There was a quote from his friend, Father Martin, an Episcopal priest, defending same gender marriage. Francis wondered if he and his partner Lee would consider being legally married if the Supreme Court ruled in their favor today. They had been in contact briefly last week, but Father Martin made no indication. Of course it had been more a professional than a personal conversation.

He folded the paper carefully across his lap and sat sipping his coffee, thinking back to his first meetings with Hawkeye. When he joined the priesthood and the Army, he didn’t count on the dark haired, blue eyed surgeon with the sardonic wit he showed to everyone and the kind heart he attempted to hide tempting him so soon after his arrival in Iraq.

Hawkeye had joined the reserves while in medical school on a governmental plan to help pay tuition. He was assured the most combat he’d see was in basic training. He didn’t count on two Middle East countries deciding not to play nice over an oil pipeline. The Army needed doctors, though, and what better doctors to recruit than those straight out of residency and playing soldier once a month. Hawkeye didn’t want to be in Iraq and took it upon himself to let everyone know every chance he got. Nevertheless, because of his exceptional skills in the operating room and Post-Op, he managed to get himself named chief surgeon of the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital both he and Father Mulcahy had been assigned to.

The little dog looked up at Francis again and cocked his head. While they opted not to travel, both men had been on vacation this week and Pup-pup was unused to long leisurely mornings so many days in a row. Francis watched Hawkeye sleep and smiled thinking back to the first time he truly spoke to Hawkeye. The priest went to him in hopes of some surplus medical supplies.

“Captain Pierce, I wonder if I might have a word.” He’d begun, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the surgeon’s quarters, holding his cap in his hands. Hawkeye was wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt and scrub pants and was sitting on a scavenged chair drinking what appeared to be gin out of an Army issue canteen cup.

He looked up at the priest with blurred eyes. He’d had a long day in O.R. and was in no mood to be visited by a Bible thumper eager to ease his soul of any sins. “I’m agnostic, Father...uhm...”

“Mulcahy. But I’m not here on a pastoral visit.” Francis tried to explain about the village just north of their location made up mostly of orphans with a few adults trying desperately to care for them all. “I was hoping you might be able to part with some medical supplies for them. Even bandages, antiseptic, and ibuprofen would be a help.”

Hawkeye studied him for a long moment. “And why come to me?”

“You are the Chief Surgeon, are you not, my son?”

“Sorry, Father, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Hawkeye turned back to his drink, but the next day Francis found a large box filled with medical supplies in the chapel with a note.

_You didn’t get these from me. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know. ~BFP_

“BFP?” Francis had asked Hawkeye a few days later, falling into step with him on the way to the chow line.

Hawkeye stopped, his blue eyes boring into Francis’ own eyes. He seemed to be making a decision about something; what Francis wasn’t sure. The priest tried to find a neutral, but friendly, expression while shuffling his feet nervously in the desert sand. Finally Hawkeye said “Benjamin Franklin Pierce. But everyone calls me Hawkeye from The Last of the Mohicans. My father’s favorite book.”

“I see.” Francis mumbled, a bit shaken at the scrutiny.

Hawkeye suddenly grinned in such a way it made all of Iraq seem brighter and made Francis feel as though Hawkeye never grinned for anyone else the way he did at just that moment. “Come on, Father.” Hawkeye draped a casual arm over his shoulders. “Let’s go get some lunch.”

Francis found he spent an extraordinary amount of time thinking thoughts that perhaps he shouldn’t about Hawkeye after that. And while it would be another full 6 months of playful banter, late night poker games with some of the other officers in camp, and mysterious supplies often appearing in Francis’ quarters before they would admit it to each other, Hawkeye spent his own time thinking similar thoughts about the unit chaplain.

One night about 3:00a.m. Hawkeye, his bunkmate and fellow surgeon BJ, and Francis stood in the kitchen making sandwiches. They had all been on duty with only short nap breaks for 36 hours. The Iraqi government had taken it on themselves to begin bombing a nearby infantry unit and village. Between the local villagers and the soldiers, the entire unit was up to its eyeballs in wounded. The doctors saved as many lives as they could. With no psychiatrist in the unit Francis called upon his counseling training to work on their minds and occasionally their souls. Few villagers were Christian, or otherwise he would have worn out his prayer beads on the last rites the last 3 days. Even still, he prayed over each person who was lost.

BJ was also an Army reservist and felt nearly the same as Hawkeye about being shipped to Iraq. He and Hawkeye were bantering back and forth over mayonnaise, suspicious looking bologna, and stale bread. Francis had spent enough time with the duo to understand this was the way they blew off steam. Nearly too tired to do more than eat the sandwich passed to him, he watched them in quiet bemusement until Hawkeye turned his attention.

“You know, Father, standing there like that with the light hitting you the way it does, you look just like a Hooters girl I knew in Baltimore.” He said with one of his infamous smirks.

Francis swallowed a bite of sandwich. “It’s quite possible, Hawkeye,” he heard himself saying, “I worked my way through divinity school as a Hooters girl in Baltimore.” He only understood what a Hooters girl was because he'd heard some of the men talk about them in confession. Respond in such a way, however was something of a surprise even to himself. Francis' eyes locked with Hawkeye's for too long. Hawkeye smiled, pleased at the joke.

“Would you two like to be alone?” BJ asked, breaking what was becoming a too intimate silence. 

The next day nearing midnight, the medical shifts staggered out of the O.R. and Post-Op, exhausted and disheartened. Francis walked with Hawkeye and BJ toward their quarters. “Hawkeye, I wonder if I might have a word?”

“Now?”

Francis felt if he didn’t say what had been creeping into the forefront of his mind during blessed lulls in the influx of wounded or dying, he may not allow himself the opportunity again to confront Hawkeye. He felt if he allowed his weary conscious rest, he would lose his courage...or stupidity. He wasn’t entirely sure which. “I’m sorry, Hawkeye. I’m afraid it can’t wait. Walk with me to my tent?”

The doctor grumbled, but followed along anyway. Once inside the privacy of Francis’ tent, the priest asked, “Hawkeye, forgive me if I’m wrong, but...oh dear...is it possible there might be a mutual attraction between us?”

“Father, are you hitting on me?” Hawkeye asked, suddenly awake.

“I wouldn’t go that far, my friend, but...” He paused, trying to make sense of the words in his own head. Trying to determine exactly how to begin. “Do you know why I became a priest?” Hawkeye was lounging on the edge of Francis’ cot and shook his head. Silence was difficult for the doctor, but he was wise enough to know when he needed to exercise it. “I’m a homosexual.” He glanced at Hawkeye in trepidation, but Hawkeye’s face remained passive. The doctor had expected (and secretly hoped) as much of the priest. He’d learned that it was often easy to know your own. “I’ve known this about myself since I was very young. Even before I knew there were words for boys who preferred the...company of boys over girls. And well,” Francis continued, “my father was an unkind man, in particular when the subject of homosexuals arose. I’ve always thought he had his suspicions about me the way he pushed me toward sports, and hunting, and things he felt normal men ought to do. I couldn’t be the man my father tried to mold me into, Hawkeye, but I also knew I couldn’t face a marriage full of lies.” He paused again, his breath shaky from exhaustion. “The one thing my father gave me I thought could save me was my Catholic upbringing. Seeing his face when I told him I wanted to be a priest...well, that was about as proud as I could hope for, even if I could still see a hint of disappointment behind his eyes.”

“I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this, Father.”

Francis scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand before sitting in the extra folding chair he kept in his tent for confessions. “I thought as a priest I could temper my...urgings toward men, but I couldn’t. So I joined the Army as a chaplain.”

“A double whammy at repressing your true self.”

“Yes, quite.”

“It’s not working so well for you, is it, Father?”

He took a deep breath. “My vow of celibacy has changed nothing but the expectation my father had of me to settle and have a family." He paused again, searching for words. "I’ve seen so much here. So much suffering. So many innocent deaths. So much hate. The needlessness of it all has made me wonder if God truly cares about who a person...”

“Loves?” Hawkeye finished.

The priest’s eyes blue eyes flickered up for a moment, “That might be a bit premature, but yes, I suppose so.”

“Father...”

“Please, Hawkeye, would you call me Francis?”

Hawkeye reached out a hand to place lightly on the priest’s knee. “Francis, would you like an answer to your first question now?” Francis nodded, too drained to be anxious. “Yes. There is a mutual attraction between us. If you haven’t realized it, I’ve been flirting with you for months now.”

“How could I tell, Hawkeye?” The priest hoped it came out as a tease. “You flirt with everyone.”

The doctor simply smiled before leaning in for a kiss.

The two had a year before their deployment was over. A year of finding private places to meet and trying not to question their relationship. Francis had decided no matter where the relationship with Hawkeye led, he would resign his commission and leave the priesthood once he was sent stateside. He was due to re-enlist in eighteen months. He knew he was useful and perhaps even doing God’s work in Iraq, but he had lost his faith. “You may no longer be a Godly man, Francis,” Hawkeye told him one night, “But you’re still a goodly man. That will never change.” It was a piece of truth he could cling to until the two institutions he could no longer be a part of would release him.

Two months before their deployment was to be over, a SCUD attack on the village where Francis was tending to “his” orphans left Francis with a concussion, bruises, a broken wrist, and tinnitus. Damage to the inner ear from the mortar blast. Likely irreversible. It took Hawkeye a frantic day on his own to find Francis in the rubble of a bombed out mosque turned refugee center after the Army had already declared Francis MIA 24 hours into the search. “I thought I’d lost you.” Hawkeye kept murmuring, cradling Francis in his arms while waiting for the ambulance he’d radioed for to arrive.

Francis earned a medical discharge. Hawkeye earned a reprimand for going AWOL. The priest spent several weeks at Walter Reed recovering and beginning the preliminary conversation to leave the priesthood. Once released from the hospital, Francis realized he had no place to go. The Church and the Army had always provided him with a home. He had no family he wished to stay in contact with, save a sister who was a nun in San Francisco. Hawkeye’s father Dr. Daniel Pierce, invited him to Crabapple Cove at Hawkeye’s request. The surgeon spoke so fondly of his hometown and his dad, Francis felt they were already his own. Dr. Pierce welcomed Francis as though Francis were his own son. Together they got to know one another, learned sign language, and waited another month for Hawkeye to return.

Once both men were home and settled in the Pierce Victorian, it became obvious first to Daniel as he watched his son and the priest move through their lives with each other, theirs was no simple wartime affair. It was Hawkeye who insisted they maintain separate bedrooms until Francis was officially no longer a priest. By the time the leaves turned on the maple tree behind the house and the small garden Francis planted died off, Daniel was helping them move into the large room they now occupied.

Thanks to Daniel Pierce, Francis took a job as an elementary school teacher and coached the high school track team in the afternoons. Dr. Pierce even convinced the school board to hire the former priest an assistant and translator, providing Francis teach the aide sign language on his own time. His aides over the years were mostly young kids fresh out of high school or college who came and went, as the job didn’t pay well. Many, though, became part of their little Pierce/Mulcahy family while under Francis’ employ. One girl asked Francis as she left the elementary school to go to middle school if she could return some day to be his aide. “Of course, my child,” he’d told her. “If you keep up your sign language skills and do well in school, I would be happy to have you on.” 

Abby took that as a challenge and began showing up at the large Pierce Victorian every Saturday for sign language lessons. And as luck would have it, the year she graduated from high school Francis saw himself in need of a new assistant. Even after she left the school to start her own family 6 years later, she and her new husband were still part of his. Their sons Michael and Robert were two in a line of adopted grandchildren to call Francis “Papa” and Hawkeye “Grandad.”

Hawkeye, of course, built a little practice of his own alongside his father. His new nurse Elizabeth had no family of her own. She adopted Hawkeye quickly as surrogate father (although Francis, having been adopted by the Pierces himself, always wondered if it weren’t the other way around). Her daughter Eve, due to graduate high school next year, was the first to refer to Francis and Hawkeye as grandfathers. Eve was joined later by Ben and Franny. Sunday dinners in the large Victorian were often full of raucous laughter, foot races through Francis’ tomato rows, and happy grandfathers rocking sleeping babies on the front porch.

 _Yes,_ Francis thought to himself, _it’s been 22 years abundant with blessings._ Yet, something had always been missing. It took him years to pinpoint exactly what, but when the Defense Against Marriage Act was repealed in 2011, he realized what it was he felt he needed to make his life with Hawkeye complete. It seemed like a simple thing, however for a man who chose his family, it meant so much. Now that marriage might be attainable for all consenting adults, he thought he would like to have his life with Hawkeye recognized legally. He patted the small lump in his bathrobe pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

Hawkeye shifted in the bed, sending Pup-pup scrambling to his face eager for a scratch behind the ears. He laughed and peered around the dog to sign to Francis, “Are you going to sit there staring at me all morning or are you going to pass me that cup of coffee?”

“Heavens, I didn’t realize you were awake!” Francis crossed the room with both cups of coffee. 

“I got up to use that latrine while you were making coffee. You’ve been so introspective this morning, though, I thought I’d let you muse for a while.” Hawkeye took a sip of coffee. “Any news yet?”

Francis shook his head and snuggled in beside Hawkeye, fitting in crook of the the taller man’s arm. Hawkeye smelled of cedar, grass, and sweat. They’d made love last night, as they had nearly every night of their vacation. “Mmmm...I do believe I’m going to miss our late nights and later mornings once you go back to work on Monday.”

“And the grandkids,” Hawkeye signed clumsily with one arm partially pinned and kissed the top of Francis’ head before shifting to reach for the TV remote. They both were anxious about the same thing - the day’s Supreme Court rulings. Within a few minutes CNN’s reporter noted, “In a landmark opinion, a divided Supreme Court today ruled that same-sex couples can marry nationwide, establishing a new civil right and handing gay rights advocates a historic victory.”

“We won! Hawkeye, we won!” Francis sat up in excitement, startling both Hawkeye and Pup-pup. “Oh, blessed Mary, we won!”

Hawkeye smiled his beautiful smile that lit up his eyes the color of the bay beyond their windows. He didn’t even mind Francis spilled his coffee on the bed. Once the initial excitement waned and they both settled back to watch the rest of the news report, Hawkeye signed, “I have something for you.”

“I have something for you too.” Francis looked down to his robe pocket while Hawkeye reached for something under his pillow. They both turned to each other to find themselves greeted with rings in outstretched hands. Hawkeye signed “Marry me,” clasping his hand down over the ring momentarily just as Francis did the same.

The joyous laughter from his partner was so loud, Francis could hear it as well as feel it vibrate through the bed. “Oh, Hawkeye.” he smiled. “You ruined my surprise. I’ve been looking for the perfect ring and the perfect time for weeks.” Francis wasn’t truly disappointed; Hawkeye knew.

“Your surprise? You ruined mine! Do you know how long I’ve had this ring in my nightstand drawer?” Hawkeye’s blue eyes twinkled in delight. “So I suppose we both know the answer to our question.” He handed Francis a brushed silver ring with a blue star sapphire cabochon set in the middle. “This was Dad’s. You two were so close, I thought you’d like to have something of his.” Francis remembered seeing Daniel Pierce wear the ring often before he died. “My mother gave it to him. She said the blue stone matched his eyes and the colors of the bay. I had it cleaned up and hopefully sized properly for you.”

“Hawkeye...” Francis whispered, visibly touched. He slid the ring on his left ring finger. “And a perfect fit too.”

They were quiet for a moment before Francis presented his ring. “You are my family so this not a family heirloom, but I know how you love tradition and Crabapple Cove. I found this in an antique shop in Camden.” He slid a gold band with a square cut garnet in the center and a celtic knot design on either side onto Hawkeye’s left ring finger. “Garnets are said to have many meanings, devotion and healing are among them.”

“It’s a family heirloom now, Francis.” Hawkeye responded before drawing the man into a deep kiss. After breaking apart, he rested his forehead against his partner’s.

“Who should we tell first?” Francis whispered.

“Well, Elizabeth knows. She helped me figure out how to size the ring.”

“Abby knows too. She’s been accompanying me to antique shops.”

“And Father Martin knows.” They said in unison, to which Hawkeye added, “That explains why he seemed confused when I called him earlier this week.”

A quiet moment between them was interrupted by both their cell phones buzzing within seconds of each other. Several text messages of some variation of “Turn on the news!” appeared from various family members, followed by two very impatient messages of “Well, what did he say?”

“Shall we have the girls and the kids over to celebrate?” Hawkeye asked.

“Tomorrow.” Francis mumbled against his neck. “Today, you’re mine.”

Two cups of coffee grew cold on the nightstand as Hawkeye pulled them down to the pillows and mattress. “Tomorrow,” he growled directly in Francis’ ear.


	3. Chapter 3

The two men looked across the chaos in the front yard of the Victorian at each other and smiled broadly. Their small autumn wedding of just family and a few close friends more resembled their raucous Sunday family dinners than a formal celebration. Pup-pup ran excitedly between legs, barking in joy at all the people to give him attention. As Francis watched Hawkeye kneeling in his tux in the grass to speak with Robert, who was upset he couldn’t be a flower girl, Francis knew they shouldn’t have expected their wedding to be any other way.

“You can’t be a flower girl, Robert, because Papa and I didn’t plan to scatter flower petals.” Francis saw Hawkeye sign to the 6 year old. They had made it a point to sign and speak to all the children as soon as they were born.

Seeing Robert’s face fall, Francis called to Eve and Franny. “Eve, my child, go down to the basement and find that pretty yellow basket your sister likes to use at Easter. You know where the Easter things are?” She nodded and dashed off on her errand. “Franny, when your sister gets back with the basket, take your cousin Robert out back to the maple tree and help him collect the fallen leaves. And try to keep him somewhat clean until after the ceremony, would you?”

“If Robert scatters leaves, who’s going to carry your ring?” Hawkeye asked.

“I can carry both, Grandad! Let me!” Four year old Michael bounced almost as excitedly as Pup-pup.

“Well, there you go, Hawk. Two problems solved. We’ll have a leaf boy and a ring bearer.” Francis laughed. “Now be careful with those, Michael. They are family heirlooms,” he cautioned to the youngest grandson. His finger momentarily felt bare as he pulled off his ring to hand to the young boy.

Ben, who had recently confided in Francis he wanted to be a teacher like him, asked to translate the service. “Why, Francis? I could sign for you.” Hawkeye fussed.

To which Francis responded with a peck on the lips “Because he wants to.”

Franny was set to play _Fools Rush In_ on an electric keyboard, despite the former priest’s grumbling “How old does she think we are?”

“Shhhh...Francis. It’s a beautiful song...and she plays nearly as well as you.” Hawkeye teased.

Eve, the quiet one, often overshadowed by her more outgoing siblings came to her grandfathers. “Grandad, I don’t mind running the errands, but...”

“Sweetheart, never fear. We saved the most important job for you!” Hawkeye exclaimed, ignoring Francis’ questioning look. “We need someone to witness signing the marriage license. And since you just turned 18, you’re the only grandchild of legal age who can do so.” She beamed. “There. Another problem solved, Francis.” Hawkeye winked, his blue eyes shining.

Abby walked Francis along the path of leaves Robert made for them, followed by Elizabeth and Hawkeye to the arch the girls’ husbands had made for them. Father Martin blessed the couple and traditional vows were exchanged. Michael dutifully passed the rings to Father Martin, glaring just a little as a warning Father Martin ought be careful. 

“Hawkeye, Francis,” Father Martin began, “You found each other in the worst of times. You made a life together for the best of times. You have made your own family of people you choose to walk with you on your journey.” He spread his arms wide to indicate the people standing around them. “You have seen changes past generations dared not hope for. Your love, like the arms that embrace you, makes everything right with the world. Be complete in the circle of love that now makes you one.” He gave them each a ring to present to the other. Hawkeye’s eyes shone brightly behind his broad smile. Francis wanted to kiss him forever.

Children raced through dying tomato plants in their best clothing with Pup-pup gleefully racing alongside. Abby and Elizabeth at some point managed to wrangle everyone to sit down to a dinner spread out over two long tables near Francis’ vegetable garden and the maple tree. The two adopted daughters had worked hard on preparing the food, occasionally shooing one or the other men out of the kitchen. “No, you may not help today. Go be with your husband.” they insisted, enjoying saying the word as much as the two men enjoyed hearing it. After dinner cake was served and champagne was poured. Hawkeye even slipped a few sips to Eve and Ben.

Late in the evening Hawkeye found Francis on the front porch rocking a nearly asleep Michael and singing softly. “ _Bye-low, baby. Bye-low, baby. Bye-low, baby. Bye-low, baby bye._ ” The three sat together quietly until Michael completely nodded off. Francis kissed the child on the forehead before moving him into the couch in the living room. He returned with two beers from the kitchen. “He’s getting too big for rocking, but I fear he’s the last. I want to take advantage of it while I have the chance.”

“We’re young, Francis. We’ll have great-grandchildren before long.” Hawkeye took his new husband’s hand in his and began dancing with him in the fading daylight, humming _Fools Rush In_. “Is this what you imagined when you asked me to your tent so long ago?” He interrupted himself to sign.

“Heavens, no.” Francis smiled against Hawkeye’s neck. “I could barely dream to live a life that’s good.”


End file.
